New Excerpt from Historical Romance Novel Through the Fire--Beth Trissel

This excerpt from Chapter 13 gives a clear example of the fast-paced adventure romance that is Through the Fire.

White-hot knives of pain stabbed Rebecca’s side. Pushing on, she raced after the black stallion carrying Kate and Tessa to the trees she’d left behind mere hours before. If she made it into the woods at the same place they’d entered, she should be able to find the camp. But what of Shoka?

Tormented by his perilous state, she whirled around toward the turmoil behind her. Grayish white smoke from gunpowder and the burning fort clouded the bodies scattered over the field like rag dolls. Praying Shoka didn’t lie among the fallen, she squinted against the stinging air to seek him in the jumble of men. Tortured seconds passed as she stood, her eyes searching. If she didn’t spot him in a moment she’d run back and—there! She saw him and the tomahawk slashing at his head.

Her heart lurched into her throat as he dodged the lethal blow and sliced his blade across the attacking warrior’s arm leaving a scarlet streak.

A swift kick hurled his howling opponent back. His tomahawk upraised, Shoka rushed at a second brave, fighting his way to her. Musket fire blasted right behind her. She didn’t dare stay where she was. Catawba warriors were firing to shield their retreat toward the trees on the other side of the meadow.

Frontiersmen loosed a volley of shots and ran back to cover behind the flaming fort where the women and children had already fled. She hoped they were safely reunited, but her prayers were fixed on Shoka. She spun around to run and collided with a Catawba brave tearing past her. She reeled into the waves of men.

They shoved her out of their way, and she staggered, crying out as her bruised body hit the ground. She sagged on the grass, too winded to move. Scores of moccasins flew past just inches away from her head.

“Shoka’s woman. You have no pistol now.”

It was a voice she’d hoped never to hear again, dripping with scorn. She looked up in dread. Tonkawa stared down at her. Slitted eyes glinted in his green and black painted face, his powerful body silhouetted against the smoky sky. The silver brooch in his scalp-lock braid gleamed in the single ray of sunlight piercing the haze. Here was a demon sprung from hell.~

***Through the Fire is currently reduced from 4.99 to .99 at Amazon Kindle and Barnes & Noble’s Nookbook

***Royalty free images

How About A Little Christmas In July?

A new excerpt from Chapter Three of my ghostly Christmas Romance with more than a whisper of the paranormal?

December 1968 

The pale light trailing down the hall illuminated the closed door to her right. Bailey stopped outside the wooden barrier, darkened and scored with age, and pressed her ear to its hard surface. Nothing unusual reached her above the rattle of the wind. Likely the smoke she detected had floated upstairs from the living room hearth. If a bum had stolen into the house and taken up residence in here—a wildly unlikely premise—she shouldn’t seek him out alone. Worse—if a ghost lurked within, she didn’t want to come upon this unearthly specter by herself. Or at all. She shivered from more than the frigid air, but didn’t turn back.

It might well be that the figure and light she’d seen earlier were simply the fabrications of her overactive mind. Supposedly no one had stayed in here for decades, presumably because it wasn’t needed. Ella gave the room an occasional dusting then shut the door. Any spillover of company slept elsewhere, including the two spare bedrooms downstairs.

Still, Bailey wondered. She had to peek inside this room. Go, if you’re going, she urged herself, before she lost her nerve.

Anticipating furniture covered in dimly seen sheets, an icy chill like the inside of a mausoleum, and no signs of life except possibly a vaporous figure, she gave the brass knob a twist and opened the door. She stood stock-still. The room crackled to life like the fire burning in the hearth across the stretch of carpet right in front of her.

If she’d come here during the day would all be as she’d expected? Was she dreaming now, because seated before the fire in one of two leather armchairs was a young man, and not just any man. He resembled Edward Burke from the photograph in the dining room. Brown hair with a tendency to wave had grown back from the short military cut she’d seen beneath the cap he wore in the picture.

Instead of the Marine uniform from World War One, he was dressed in a rust-brown velveteen robe with a shawl collar worked in a multicolored print, the sort of robe gentlemen wore in pictures she’d seen of early Twentieth Century fashion. The plush cloth covered him nearly to his ankles. His stocking feet were shod in slippers of the same hue and propped on a padded footstool.

He glanced up from the book he held in long, slender fingers. His chestnut brows rose in a quizzical arch then drew together above narrowing brown eyes. “Did no one ever instruct you to knock before entering a gentleman’s bedchamber?”

***This scene was inspired by a dream I had…which led to my writing the story.

*Old Virginia family home place pictured above.

SOMEWHERE THE BELLS RING is available in ebook at The Wild Rose Press, Amazon Kindle, All Romance Ebooks, Barnes & Noble’s Nookbook & other online booksellers.